


Don't

by Josselin



Series: Laurent Is a Girl [5]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Birth Control, F/M, Shaving, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: Shaving Laurent was almost relaxing.





	Don't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seek_The_Mist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Mist/gifts).



Shaving Laurent was almost relaxing. She was usually quiet, while he worked, so he didn’t have to think about talking to her, and the work took focus, which was nice for getting himself out of his head for a few minutes. They were in what had come to be their favorite position for him to shave her, which was sitting on the floor of his bathroom, with a towel spread out on the floor, with Auguste sitting with his back against the side of the bathtub and Laurent between Auguste’s legs, her back to his chest. 

He was wearing boxers and had his hair tied up in a messy bun. Laurent was wrapped in a towel and her hair was wet and half stuck to his chest.

He had managed both of her calves and one of her thighs before he realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear under her towel. “Laurent,” he said warningly, but he continued with her other thigh.

The problem with the lack of underwear was that it wasn’t clear where he should stop. The hair continued, of course. It was thicker. But he usually stopped at the line of Laurent’s underwear. Sometimes she wore cute cotton boyshorts, and the line was lower, and sometimes she had a bikini-style brief that was made out of some kind of fabric with a more satiny feel, and so the exact line where he stopped varied a little, which he tried not to let bother him, but he just went with whatever she was wearing at the time.

He lingered with his hand on her inner thigh, thinking, and then she shifted a little, moving the position of his hand so he was touching her lightly, there. He froze. “Laurent,” he said again.

“Keep going,” she said.

Auguste wanted to, but he hesitated. He had another theory as to why Laurent might be thinking about this, and it had to do with how she’d announced to him that her doctor had prescribed her birth control pills and she needed him to pick them up for her at the pharmacy. He had them in his work bag; he hadn’t given them to her yet. He had to leave for the airport in two hours; he was still thinking about if he was going to give them to her before he left.

“Why?” he said.

“You want to,” she said, nuzzling her nose against his neck a little.

That was true, and he let his hand settle on her with slightly more pressure. He’d been holding it carefully as though touching her with more than the lightest feather pressure were going to break something.

“Laurent,” he said. “Don’t fuck Damen while I’m gone.”

Laurent didn’t act surprised, but she did nuzzle his neck again. “Are you going to fuck me?”

She’d asked that before, and every time she’d asked, the answer was the same. So far. “No.”

“So why do you get to tell me not to fuck someone else?”

“Because I’m your guardian and you’re fifteen.”

“Do you want me to fuck someone besides Damen?” Besides himself? No, the idea was horrible. He made a noise that conveyed his opinion of that question. If she was going to fuck someone, it should definitely be Damen. Or him. Him first, and then she could fuck Damen if she wanted. 

“Good,” Laurent hummed. “I like Damen.”

He knew she did, that was the problem. And he could tell Damen liked her, too. 

“I’ll have him arrested,” he threatened.

Laurent didn’t seem worried. She made a considering noise. “You would need some kind of evidence,” she said. “And probably testimony from me, which I’m not going to give.” 

Laurent began doing an extremely credible impression of an intimidated conversation with a police officer. She had an amazing career in theater ahead of her, Auguste figured. “No, officer, nothing like that ever--”

Auguste clapped a hand over her mouth to stop her. Not the hand that was still resting between her legs. He let it drop when she stopped talking. “I could probably get Damen to confess,” he said.

That stumped Laurent for a moment, presumably because she knew each of them well enough to agree that was true.

After a moment, a new argument from Laurent emerged. “It’s not fair,” she said. “I have desires, Auguste,” the words somehow sounded filthy. “I want sex, and you won’t--”

He tightened his hand that was cupping her between her legs and let one of his fingers dip a bit lower. “I will--” he said. That was new. He had never said that to her before. They might have both understood it, but he’d never spoken it out loud. It felt like a relief, for a moment, to say what they’d both known was simmering beneath the surface, and to realize that nothing happened. She was still in between his legs, leaning back against him. He was still touching her. No one else was there. He felt suddenly he had to back away from what he’d said, slightly. “Just--not yet.” He let his finger press inside of her very lightly. She was slick and wet and it wasn’t from the shower she’d taken.

“Oh!” said Laurent, arching back against him at the feeling of his finger. “When?” she said.

“Just don’t let Damen fuck you while I’m gone.”

“Get me off now and I’ll consider it,” said Laurent. She was such a menace.

“I have to shave you first,” he said. “I can’t get you off if you’re covered in hair.”


End file.
